


Of Midnight Deals

by BarPurple



Series: Halloween House of Horror 2018 [13]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meeting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 02:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16461752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Something is making a meal of Belle's garden and she is going to find out what.





	Of Midnight Deals

Belle frowned at the hole in the orange flesh. This was the third morning she come out to check on the garden and found that something had been chewing at pumpkins. She was used to dealing with all manner of garden pests, but to be able to save the pumpkins from nightly nibbling she needed to know what she was dealing with.

“It doesn’t look like slugs or snails. The cats do a great job of keeping the mice away.”

To be honest the only other plant getting attacked by anything was the cabbages. The slugs and snails were on a mission to leave her with nothing but stumps this year. She peered at the edges of the hole again. If that was made by a mouse it had the oddest teeth Belle had ever seen. The jagged triangles around the edge of the hole suggested very pointy teeth indeed.

“How bizarre.”

Now she looked more closely she was almost sure that this was a single bite, rather than a hole made by gnawing. The pumpkins weren’t large at this point, but what was big enough to do this?

She stood up and angrily brushed at the knees of her skirt. If this was one of Gaston’s ‘jokes’ she was going to be very angry. She had no clue as to why he’d think this was funny, but she’d long since given up trying to understand why he did anything in his quest to gain her attention. She didn’t know how he was doing this she was going to catch him out.

“Looks like I’m camping out tonight.”

 

It didn’t take long for her to set up a hide. Papa was helpful, if a little confused as to her reason for building it. He did make sure she had her thick cloak and the cup that would keep tea warm for hours. She still had to come up with a name for this invention. That would give her something to think about while she waited.

The crescent moon was just peeking above the cottage and Belle was considering nipping back inside for a fresh cuppa. So far, a hedgehog had snorted and snuffled through the garden and made a crunchy snack of some of the snails around the cabbages. Belle had never realised how noisy a hedgehog could be when it was eating. It was not something she was in a hurry to hear again.

A family of foxes had used the pumpkin patch as a playground for a while. They had been fun to watch as they bounced over the growing gourds, but none of them had taken a nibble. After the foxes left a badger had ambled by and been rather put out that her hide was on its usual path. A few firm words had encouraged the grumpy creature to walk around. It had grumbled off it to the town and she was sure it had been responsible for the rattling crash that happened not long afterwards. The baker would be complaining about someone knocking over his trays come the morning.

Just as she’d decided that another cup of tea was in order she heard a strange whispery flapping. She froze in a crouch and peered into the dark. Whatever that was it was larger than the bats that flittered around chasing moths.

“Where are you?” she muttered under her breath and clapped her hand over her mouth when a shadow the length of her forearm alighted on the largest pumpkin. She couldn’t make it out clearly in the low light, but she was reluctant to turn up the lantern in case she frightened it away.

She edged forward, and something crunched under her foot. Belle hoped she hadn’t stepped on a snail. The shadow twisted around with a leathery flapping sound. Two glowing amber eyes fixed on her.

“May as well come out, dearie. I can see you.”

Belle considered her situation for an instant. There was no reason to stay concealed, and she didn’t feel threatened. The voice was high pitched and sing-song, but not scary. The only thing Belle knew of that was small but spoke like a human was…

“You’re a fairy.”

She took the cover of her lantern and smile to herself when the light revealed that she was correct. Although the creature standing atop her pumpkin was nothing like the butterfly like fairies she was used to seeing. His wings were closer to those of a bat and folded around him like a cloak when they were still. His hair was a riot of frizzy curls and was so close in shade to the furry pelts of his clothing that she wondered if they were clothes at all. He pulled himself up to his full height, all eight inches of it, and glared at her.

“I am no fairy. I am an imp.”

The haughty offended tone made Belle’s lips quirk, but she offered him a rather formal curtsy.

“My apologies Sir Imp, I meant no offence.”

The Imp twirled his hand at her and sniffed; “You are forgiven. I can’t expect a simple country lass to know of one such as I.”

Belle raised her eyebrows but held her tongue. She did know of Imps and knew enough to be careful while dealing with them. They were tricky and loved twisting words to tangle mortals into deals and situations they couldn’t hope to understand. She edged closer to get a better look at him. He flicked his wings and preened under her attention, even giving her a wide grin that revealed a mouthful of sharp pointed teeth.

Belle jabbed a finger at him; “You’re the one who’s been stealing bites of my pumpkins!”

A hand flew to his chest and he gasped like an offended matron; “I have most certainly not been stealing, dearie! I have been taking payment for my services.”

“What services?”

“I have been keeping creepy crawlies away from your crops. Or is the air so thin at your ridiculous height that you’ve failed to notice?”

Belle snorted at the jibe at her stature, it hadn’t occurred to her that she towered over the Imp. She’d never been taller than anyone and wasn’t sure how to respond, instead she focused on something else.

“You’ve not been doing a very good job. The cabbages are crawling with slugs and snails.”

The Imp’s wings gave an anxious flap; “Can’t abide cabbage. Horrible stuff.”

There was a tense moment of silence broken only by the hoot of a passing owl. Belle and the Imp cracked at the same time and the night echoed with their giggles. Once they had calmed themselves the Imp gave the pumpkin he was standing on a thoughtful look.

“It would be a shame if I were to remove my protection and these fine vegetables fell foul to pests.”

Belle tilted her head; “Are you suggesting we negotiate a deal?”

Him made a flamboyant gesture with his hands; “If you find our current deal unsatisfactory, dearie…”

“Ah aha,” - Belle interrupted him, - “We have no deal. You took it up on yourself to protect the garden. I agreed nothing with you.”

The Imp opened his mouth to argue than promptly snapped it shut. His wings flapped with annoyance then he smiled; “Well aren’t you a clever one? Very well, let us make a deal.”

A shiver ran down Belle’s back and she hugged her cloak tighter against the sudden nip in the air. A cup of tea struck her as a wonderful idea, but she knew better than to offer to share food or drink with a member of the Fae.

“Right, what is it you want exactly?”

The Imp giggled; “I want many things, dearie, but from you I want pumpkin.”

It took until dawn for them to hammer out the details. The deal was much as it had been; the Imp would protect her crops in return for the pick of the pumpkins. He’d readily agreed not take nibbles from them until they were ripe, but it had been a struggle to get him to include the cabbages in his protection. In the end Belle had offered to make him some jam tarts. Thankfully her books had been correct in stating that Imps had a sweet tooth.

She smothered a yawn as she read through the contract the Imp had produced. Everything was in order, so she signed her name at the bottom and handed it back to him, so he could do the same.

Both parchment and quill shrank as he touched them making them suitable for his use in the same way they had grown for her. He smoothed the contract out on the pumpkin and hunched over so she couldn’t see his signature. When he caught her curious glance, he shrugged; “Names are powerful things, dearie, can’t be to careful who you give them to.”

She’d handed her name to him without a thought. Since she couldn’t take it back she decided not to worry about the implications or consequences for now.

“What may I call you?”

He tapped his fingers together for a moment before saying; “Rum, you dearie may call me Rum.”

“Thank you, Rum. I’d rather you called me Belle than dearie.”

The word itself was not so bad, but sometimes the tone he employed sounded condescending. She couldn’t tell if that was a reflection of his mood, or if it was simply the normal inflection he gave the word.

“Belle? Yes, I suppose it does have a nice ring to it.”

She laughed at his pun. Over the course of the night she’d discovered he had a dry sense of humour not to dissimilar to her own. Another yawn cut through her laughter.

Rum clapped his hands; “To bed with you. Far too late for little women to be up and about.”

“I think it’s far too early.”

There was no bite to her words, she was to tired, it took all of her concentration not to sway on her feet once she stood up; “I’ll bid you good night Rum. Will I see you again?”

He shooed her towards the cottage; “Perhaps, probably, very likely.”

Belle paused at the window and watched as Rum flittered among the rows of vegetables. She’d not expected to make a deal with an Imp when she had set to guard the garden last night. How was she going to explain this to Papa? With a sigh she decided that could wait until she’d had some sleep.


End file.
